


My Love

by sunflowerspaceman



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Comfort Sex, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, I wrote this over the course of several bad days, M/M, Tom is there to help reassure him, Tord has a lot of regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-15 10:13:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13611228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflowerspaceman/pseuds/sunflowerspaceman
Summary: Tord has been having a hard time since he came back.





	My Love

Tord laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. The alarm clock beside him flashed “02:30” across its face in bright green letters. There was rain pattering on the window and the soft, steady breathing of Tom asleep next to him. Thunder rolled in the distance. A flash of lightning interfered with the soft yellow glow of the streetlamp outside filtering in through the curtains.

The man sighed. He’d been awake all night, trying to avoid nightmares of Tom dead or screaming at him or everything he worked for and cared about crumbling away in his hands. Just laying there with his one good eye fixed on the ceiling. There felt like there was a heavy weight on his chest. A dull ache.

He was a real piece of shit, huh?

One who didn’t deserve the forgiveness his friends had given him. He’d destroyed their home, their possessions, everything. The home he’d lived in for years preceding his departure. And to top it all off he’d hurt Tom, the one thing he loved more than life itself.

He shouldn’t have missed him.

But he did. And Tord was still here, down an eye and an arm but alive. He wished he weren’t. He knew he shouldn’t be. It was a sort of punishment, he thought. Alive and fully able to realize what he’d done.

The weight felt heavier now. Tord looked over at Tom, observing how his chest rose and fell, the perfect curve of his neck littered with beautiful little spots of purple and red, the messy dark hair. Kiss bruised lips. Beautiful. Tom was beautiful. Tord would do anything to make up for what he’d done to him.

Tom insisted he had, that he’d paid for it with his own flesh, that he was just relieved Tord wasn’t dead. Tord honestly couldn’t understand how he earned that forgiveness. He didn’t deserve it.

He sighed, cupping Tom’s cheek and pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead. The Brit stirred, but didn’t wake. Good. Tord swung his legs over the edge of the bed and stood, going to pull on his clothes before stopping. Where was he going to go? He was a wanted man. He was a criminal.

The weight turned into a tight vise around his ribs and squeezed a laugh out of his throat. And then he couldn’t stop, he was laughing high and hysterical and terrified and after a while hot tears started rolling down his face and he was somewhere in between maniacal laughter and raw, painful sobbing, hunched over and tearing at his hair and all the feelings just wouldn’t stop—

A pair of slender, pale arms wrapped around his shoulders, taking him by surprise. At some point he’d ended up on the floor, and Tom was next to him, hugging him and burying his face in the man’s shoulder. Tord felt it start to grow wet. He wrapped his arms around Tom like a lifeline.

Soft whispers were exchanged, sweet nothings and comforting words. Even softer kisses were pressed to faces and hands and necks. Eventually Tord captured Tom in an all-consuming kiss, like he was going to die tomorrow and he wanted this man, this beautiful tall wisp of a man, to be the last thing he’d ever taste.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Tord whispered when he pulled away.

“It’s okay. I forgive you. You’re forgiven.”

Tom kissed him again and Tord melted, running his hands along the other’s body like he was trying to reassure himself. Like he was making sure Tom was there. He moved his lips to his neck, then his collarbone, nipping and kissing and making more marks bloom against pale skin.

More careful than usual, he lifted Tom and set him down on the bed, moving to the valley made by his hips and pressing a kiss just above his cock. He met the black eyes of his lover (god that was so strange and wonderful to think about—his lover, not his enemy). “Do you want—”

“Yes.”

The Norwegian nodded, taking Tom in his mouth up to the base. He watched Tom’s face as he bobbed his head, taking in the whimpers he was making and how his face flushed. How his hand curled in Tord’s hair now it had grown out almost as long as it used to be and tugged it when he finally let out a strangled moan.

“Nn—To-Tord, please—”

Tord pulled his himself off Tom with a small pop. The hand in his hair moved to his cheek. He tipped his head into the palm, almost forgetting the fact that the cheek Tom was caressing was the scarred one. They stayed like that for a while.

Eventually Tord climbed up on the bed and fished around on the nightstand next to them for lube. It was hard with his gaze locked with Tom’s. Some part of him was afraid this was a dream and if he looked away Tom would be gone. It was a silly fear. He knew it. But it was there. His fingers curled around the tube, and he squeezed some onto his fingers, and slipped one inside.

Tom whimpered. His face took on the loveliest shade of red Tord had ever seen. His lashes were low over his eyes. As he slipped another in, the Brit arched his back with a keen that Tord silenced with a kiss. He scissored his fingers to stretch him out, occasionally brushing against his prostate. Luckily he was still fairly loose from earlier rounds—and apparently still sensitive, from how he was writhing.

Tord loved it.

Eventually he pulled his fingers out and started lubing up his cock, pressing slowly into Tom, pausing to give him time to adjust. When he was finally seated in him, he looked down at Tom, love swelling up in his chest. He ran his organic hand up Tom’s chest, coming to rest on his cheek.

“I love you.”

“I-I love you too. God, fuck, Tord, move, please—”

Tord laughed breathlessly, rolling his hips and loving how Tom moaned. He did it again, and again, slamming into Tom like his life depended on it. Everything else melted away. It was just the two of them together and the pleasure between them. No worries. No fear. Just them. Tord and the most important thing in his world, moving in harmony, making a symphony.

This was more comforting than any of the encounters he’d had in his absence. Meant more. Tom was here, and it felt amazing.

Eventually all good things come to an end, and after a long time Tord felt heat coiling up in his stomach. He was close, and it looked like Tom was too. His hand traveled down to his partner’s cock, stroking it until Tom’s stomach and Tord’s chest were splattered with white.

The Norwegian’s thrusts became more ragged until his hips stilled, filling Tom up. They stayed there, basking in the afterglow. Soft kisses were pressed to Tom’s face, his neck, his hands. He pulled out and collapsed beside him, holding his love close.

It was still a while before he slept. But when he did he was free of nightmares.


End file.
